The Stage is Set
by KorvaCthonic
Summary: When a certain cartoon demon is ripped away from everyone and everything he knows, does he sit around and mope about it? "I'm a demon! Troublemakin' is what I do best!" A chronicle of toons, showbiz, and why you should think twice before crossing a devil. AKA (What if Bendy turned out perfectly?) Crossposted from AO3. On Model AU
1. Of Ink and Toons

Ink chugged out of the clunking machine slowly, glinting in the harsh light of the ceiling lamps. A small cartoonish figure was forming in the glass casing in the hallway, a man peering in with hopeful eyes.

Would this crazy, absurd plan actually work?

* * *

Everything was wrong.

One minute he was minding his own business (which on its own was quite undemonly of him, just like everything else) and the next reality distorted and stretched like taffy.

He felt a falling sensation as everything twisted like a kaleidoscope, waves of panic and confusion flowing through the demon. Then, reality snapped back into place but it still felt wrong.

Nothing was flat anymore, and it hurt to look at or think about. Feeling flowed back into his numb body, but everything was too much, too deep, too…different. The influx of the new senses threatened to make him faint, his sight blurring with black spots and bright lights. A muted thundering noise played in the background, with faint plops that staccatoed against his head.

His thin legs crumpled, collapsing to his shaking knees with a cry of pain and confusion, with what looked like ink swirling around his unstable form. His muscles seized and spasmed about, fingers and toes clenching and unclenching at random. His tail lashed out and struck a wall, eliciting a yelp of pain from the small demon.

He finally looked up, chest shuddering in slight panic as he gazed around the area. The demon was in some sort of box-like container, and black ink was pouring down the sides of it from a spout-like ceiling. It dripped and splatted wetly against his horns, which he realized with some slight panic were drooping and dripping...like the ink. Was he... _melting_? His bowtie, boots, and gloves were in the same state, nearly half-liquid with their whiteness barely forming in the swirl of black ink pooling around him.

The ink which was rapidly starting to rise, flowing over his eyes and forcing them shut from the sudden stinging. A jolt of anxiety made him realize that he needed to get out.

Out!

The demon frantically clawed at the wall in front of him, slimy fingers blindly scrabbling for some sort of release mechanism.

They simply slid down what he soon realized was a smooth glass viewport, hitting no resistance. No latch, lock or anything! There was none that his quivering digits could find, meaning he was trapped inside this tiny container.

He couldn't get out…!

Fear exploded in his chest with a shriek and he lashed out, battering the unyielding door with his dripping fists. The ink pool rose higher around his form, reaching his waist, and he went at it for a second round of desperate clawing. He slid back down, panting, ink stinging his eyes. He was going to drown here. Sweet morningstar he was going to _die_ …!

It was too much for the poor devil to handle, letting out a keening wail, inky tears forming on his obscured face and mouth spastically trembling in fright, no longer his usual grin. Bendy the Dancing Demon, one of the spawn of Lucifer himself, was crying.

The inkflow above him slowed to a drip (he wasn't going to drown? he wondered distantly through his all consuming panic), finally letting him gaze, terrified and frozen, at something outside his tiny prison. He flinched at the sheer depth it had, the visual differences giving him a pounding headache.

It looked sort of similar to a toon, but distorted in ways. It had that weird depth and didn't have the soft, flexible look one of his kind did. The hands had too many fingers and the flesh was off somehow. The tones didn't fit, and were almost...more...than Bendy was used to seeing. The face had tiny, too-round pupils and there were no notches anywhere! No outlines at all on the whole thing!

That last part was just eerie and unnatural, almost more so than the depth issue.

The person got a shocked look on their face and started fiddling with something to the side, the pool of ink he was hunched in suddenly, but thankfully, draining out. The glass door opened with a hiss, leaving the devil to shuffle into a corner away from the person. Bendy clutched his knees tightly and began hiccuping in fear as they drew closer.

"Hey, buddy," came a soft, yet gruff voice. "It's okay...it's okay…"

The demon spared a quick glance upwards. The man (the voice was a dead giveaway) approached with care, hands facing palm out like he was trying to calm a raging lion. Another hiccup forced its way out of his mouth, and he rubbed away the ink over his face, more tears threatening to pour out.

Thankfully, his body finally decided to stop its leaking, stabilizing into a more solid form. His gloves and boots took shape in all their toony glory, along with his white bowtie. It suddenly felt like the tie was choking him, despite having no neck. His hand went to his mouth as his cheeks comically swelled before vomiting.

A shudder went through Bendy as he hacked up a particularly thick glob of ink onto the floor of the tiny container, coughing out smaller streams of the black liquid until there was nothing left. It had a disgustingly acidic taste to it as the ink trickled out of his teeth. The toon's body trembled as he dry-heaved, tears coming down his cheeks in rivulets. A hand awkwardly patted his back as this admittedly embarrassing display went on.

The man muttered calming things to the little devil as he took him in his arms. Bendy shivered and quivered in stress and from the cold, finally collapsing against the man's chest in exhaustion.

* * *

Thomas Connor didn't know what to think.

Against all odds, against all common sense, he had a living, breathing, terrified cartoon that had just fainted on him. However unnatural the thing looked, he was clearly a sentient being.

The fear he'd seen in those trembling notched eyes was evident enough.

Thomas sighed and shifted the demon so he could pinch his nose. _I don't get paid enough to put up with this kind of crap, Joey Drew!_ he silently raged.

He hauled up the unconscious toon onto his shoulder, being careful not to jostle him too much. Now, where could Thomas put him that someone would think twice about going to?

* * *

Thomas darted around the halls, quickly peeking around corners to make sure no one saw them. Coast seemingly clear, his heart stopped thundering so hard against his ribcage. The mechanic ducked into the spare medical room with his demonic luggage in tow, quietly locking the door behind him with a relieved sigh.

Since the oh-so-wise Joey Drew enacted that policy (whoever gets found faking illness on the job would be docked pay), literally no one who was even remotely attached to their job came to this place. _Probably afraid the big guy would think they were just pretending, even if they actually were sick_ , he thought wryly.

In any case, it was free of prying eyes and full of empty beds.

Tom dumped Bendy on the nearest bed and stretched, popping his back in one smooth motion. "Dang, that felt good," he muttered.

The sudden noise woke the demon with a start, sitting up in an instant with a loud TWANG, tail straightening out in alarm.

"Who- where- what's happenin'!" He screeched in with his eyes squinted shut, fists balling into a mock boxer stance. "Lemme at 'em!"

Against his will, Tom's mouth quirked upwards a little. Inside, he was still freaking out because there was a _cartoon demon_ right in front of him, who was now awake. He took a deep breath to calm his jitters, only to be interrupted by the gasp of shock directed at him.

Bendy was staring at him with fear in his big notched eyes, reaching up and tugging at his bowtie, gulping. "So it wuzna dream…"

Thomas grimaced. "Believe me, I'd love if it were."

They entered a period of awkward silence, studying each other. The demon wrung his hands together, eyes flicking everywhere and a look of anxiety on his face that just screamed that he'd rather be anywhere else. Thomas sat on a nearby bed and cleared his throat, making the toon jump. At least three feet in the air.

Giving Bendy a bewildered look, the mechanic sighed, holding out his hand. "Hi, my name's Thomas Connor, mechanic and all around human. And you?"

As if a switch was flicked, the demon's anxious demeanor transformed into a happy and cheery one, that trademark grin spreading across his face like a wildfire. He leapt off the bed and was up to Thomas in an instant, straightening his bowtie and clasping the human's hands with his own gloved ones.

"Nice ta meetcha Tom, it's a real treat!" He exclaimed, shaking hands so quickly they became a blur. "Call me Bendy, Bendy Demon! An all around toon here!"


	2. Colors of the World

Every man has something he regrets.

Thomas Connor was beginning to regret everything.

The darling devil himself became intensely curious after the initial introductions, investigating everything in the medical room. And that included the mechanic himself.

Bendy was currently trying to stretch his cheek out along with the demon's own. Tom's cheek recoiled with a faint popping noise, while the toon's own was stretched out like a rubber band to a ludicrous degree, before snapping back so hard the devil was sent sprawling over the bed, giggling like a little girl.

The human glared at Bendy. "Are you done now?" he growled grumpily, rubbing at his now-sore cheek.

"Nope, not even close!" the devil quipped, eliciting a groan from his companion.

Bendy narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. "So, ya humans can't do hammerspace-" he whipped out a mallet, then threw it behind him just as fast. "-Rule of Funny stuff like tricking gravity-" the devil walked off the bed into mid air, looked down, and fell. "-or any a' our stretchy stuff. For whateva reason."

"We've established that, yes."

"Well…" the toon drawled out the word, "you fellas still gotta have outlines, right? Everythin's got one. Are yours invisible?" He poked Tom's side for emphasis, before looking everywhere else.

"Does everythin' in this weird place have one a' your fancy inviso-lines?"

Thomas rubbed his temples, feeling a headache coming on.

"And waddabout ya weirdo tones, too?" Bendy started ranting, pacing along the hardwood. "Ain't never seen anything like 'em, and this place has got this weird depth to it-"

"Because it's three-dimensional."

The devil stopped stock still. "Wha'?"

Thomas sat on a bed again, patting the spot next to him. Bendy gave him a look, but settled by the human. The mechanic sighed, trying to wrack his brain for a way to say this lightly.

Lightly in a way that wouldn't give the poor demon an existential crisis.

"Bud, ya gotta understand that this world isn't like your two-dimensional one. Things here, they don't have outlines. They never did in the first place," he said softly.

"Our 'tones' here aren't in black and white. We have colors, and those are what you're seeing, Bendy."

* * *

Colors?

Bendy reached out with trembling hands (when did he start trembling?), taking Tom's shirt in his grasp. The color was bright and cheery, like...the sun?

Yeah, like the sun. Was that the color of it here?

"What color is this?"

The human gave a small smile. "That old thing? It's a pretty dirty shade of yellow. And this here?" He held up his wristwatch. "This part is brown, and this here rim is a gold color…"

They passed away the afternoon in a more casual atmosphere, Tom pointing out an object and naming all the colors. Pretty soon Bendy had gotten all the basic ones down, although he was enamoured with every new one he found.

Personally, the devil liked the maroons and soft blues he was introduced to.

These were such an alien concept to the toon himself. It was like he'd been blind his whole life, and was just now really opening his eyes. Well, technically he'd been colorblind, but still!

Bendy was wandering about the room more, searching out the more exotic ones, when he found a cache of books. His curiosity piqued, the devil plucked up one that featured bright pictures of sunny pastures, dotted with tiny milky cows in the distance. What was the rest of this world like?

It made him wonder how some of his buddies would react.

Boris would probably just glance at the colors a bit, blink, and then go off in search of more food. He wasn't one to think too deeply into the mysteries of the world.

Alice, now he'd get a kick outta her! She'd most likely freak out and pull out one of her crosses, mumbling about it being the Devil's handiwork or something like that.

A small smile crossed his face at the thought before souring as a dull throb of homesickness sounded in his chest. Bendy missed the antics that the trio would get into, missed the way everything actually made sense.

Then the speaker system decided to crackle to life.

Bendy let out a startled screech like a scared cat, shooting up and digging his fingers into the ceiling. He stiffened before realizing what it was, falling down next to Tom just as quickly and giving an embarrassed grey blush at his reaction. Tom was more concerned with the contents of the message, however.

"Gent Officer Thomas Connor is to report to the Gent Company office immediately!"

* * *

Thomas let out a discontent grumble as the small demon wriggled around inside his coat. Bendy poked his head out before being shoved back down as Wally Franks passed them in the hall. Tom flashed him a shaky smile before inching away slowly. The janitor quirked an eyebrow but didn't say anything, instead continuing on his merry old way, whistling a show tune.

Bendy himself froze at the sound of the song. It was familiar. Too familiar. He'd made that up himself, never singing nor even humming it in Hell for fear that he would be kicked out. Not that it kept it from happening...but he'd never shown it to another soul. How in the world (worlds? This whole situation was downright confusing) did a random guy know it?

This was all getting weirder by the second.

The two made their way uncomfortably down the hallways, finally reaching a point in the veritable maze that they stopped. The section was labelled as 'GENT', featuring a pair of shiny oaken doors on either side of a small wooden table. Thomas made another quick sweep of the outside before entering.

The instant the door closed behind him, Bendy shot out of his jacket with a dramatic gasp, chest huffing and puffing like the big bad wolf. The demon's head whipped around to give Thomas the most deadly glare he could (it didn't work, looking more pouty and cute than killer).

"Ya coulda suffocated a poor devil in there!" he accused.

Thomas just gave a shrug. "Lemme see you come up with a different idea in ten seconds."

He raised a finger, about to protest, before it literally deflated like a popped balloon. "That's not fair."

"Life's not fair. Get used to it."

Bendy just blew a raspberry at him with crossed arms.

Tom ignored the demon's antics, leading them towards an office with his name emblazoned on the frosted glass. He put his palm on the door, hesitating.

There was no telling what would actually happen to Bendy, was there? Joey Drew was a shrewd boss, and he could and would use everything and everyone possible to clamber up the ladder of fame and fortune.

Slightly annoying with his tooniness Bendy may be, the little rascal had wormed his way into the mechanic's heart surprisingly quickly.

"What's takin' so long bud? Got cold feet?" the devil teased.

His temper flared again, and Tom gritted his teeth with his brows furrowed. The door eased open to reveal his modest little office space of a comfy chair and a shiny oaken desk, and said chair turned to show a middle-aged, dark haired man. A pleasant smile tugged at his lips, only to freeze in place as those dark, beady eyes drilled into the demon. It was replaced by a terrifying grin comparable to a ravenous shark.

"Ah, I see our first attempt worked, Mr. Connor. Bring it closer, so I can see the fruits of our labors."

Thomas twitched. Bendy is not an it! he fumed silently, but complied, tugging the toon into the office. His boss leaned over the desk to peer down at the demon, flickers of greed shining in his eyes.

* * *

Bendy winced at the rough treatment, sending a brief glare Tom's way before gazing up at the man in front of him. His tail lashed and hands made fists as a chill shot up his spine. Those eyes…

They say eyes are the windows to the soul. Such a saying is true for those beings who deal with souls, like demons and angels, who had the ability to soulgaze a person, determining how pure or corrupt a mortal is. It was a handy thing to have when your job was to judge someone for the afterlife.

Thomas had hardened eyes that held a soft, sweet core to them. A soul like the mantle of the planet itself, flaring and flaming in defense of those he cared about in the form of a fiery temper. The man was good at heart, quite unlike the veritable demon (and that was coming from an actual devil!) hovering above.

The man towering over him had eyes like black holes. His greed was so deeply ingrained into his being that it consumed everything else like a ravenous beast, never satisfied. A literal pit in his own soul that he tried to fill with meaningless things like fame, glory and money, in some vain attempt at becoming whole.

Those eyes reminded him of too much.

His fists shook and trembled at the sight, eyes tearing into him. Sweatlike ink ran down the demon's brow.

The man made that sickeningly fake smile again. "So, welcome to the real world, Bendy!" He said cheerfully. "We have so much to do, so little time! The name is Joey Drew, and I'm pleased to begin working with you."

The demon forced himself to give a shaky grin. "Waddaya mean 'workin'? I thought I was a guest?"

Joey gave a deep chuckle, shaking his head. "Don't you wanna make folks laugh? It's what your cartoons we made are all about."

Bendy was taken aback. "Well, sure, but- wait, what?!"

Joey shot Thomas a look. "You didn't tell him?"

"I implied it really heavily!" The mechanic bit out stiffly. "But no, I s'pose I didn't tell it to his face."

He turned to the demon and bent down so they were at eye level. "Bendy, buddy, this place is called Joey Drew Studios. Y'see, here, they animate cartoons in shorts and they get screened in theaters everywhere. They created a specific cartoon that has a certain angel, demon, and wolf starring in it."

The demon's notched eyes shrank. "Y..yer sayin' that you fellas made us?" Bendy pointed at Joey accusingly, finger trembling.

Oh, it made so much sense now, the way nothing had outlines and everything had color. The way the very physics themselves were so fundamentally different. It wasn't everything here that was unnatural.

It was him.

Another chill shot down his spine. How...how did he even exist like this? And everything he'd ever known, done or met?

It was all orchestrated for him, like Bendy was some sort of exotic puppet on their silver screen. Pulling his strings this whole time without him ever knowing it, oblivious to the horrifying truth. And probably the rest of the toons, too.

Bile rose in his nonexistent throat, but he shoved it and his growing panic down into a tiny box and kicked it far, far away into the recesses of his mind. It wouldn't do him any good to break down now. Just act natural, put on a show like normal.

"That's sure somethin'," the devil made a show of saying, fingers reflexively fixing his bowtie to hide his unease.

A grin broke out over his face, Bendy's well practiced mask falling into place. "Well, I guess since I've been practically workin' here the whole time, it won't be that different. Where do I sign?"

As if he had any choice in the matter, anyway.


	3. Fun and Games until Someone Gets Hurt

Life in the studio was quite different from then on, for a certain duo at least.

The dancing demon himself was relegated to the offices to keep out of sight, given naught but a cot and a blanket to sleep on. Drew was finicky about anyone else seeing him, for some reason. Thomas tried to visit as much as he could, but things were a bit strained because of recurring breaks in the plumbing of the Ink Machine and his other duties.

It was always hilarious to hear the mechanic cursing up a storm in the aftermath of such an incident.

Food wasn't a problem, with hot bacon soup being delivered by a person slipping it through the door. He was getting pretty sick of it, though. Water was provided by a sink in the corner, thankfully untainted by the ink that seemed to creep everywhere these days.

Most of the time, the toon was left to fend off the boredom all by himself. There was only so many times you could tell yourself a joke, and gags only worked with a second person after all.

So one dismal afternoon, with the shadows creeping and disturbing thoughts forming, Bendy decided something needed to be done. Something that would both relieve him of his boredom and let him out of this suffocatingly claustrophobic place.

A devilish grin spread across his face, tail flicking in anticipation.

First though, he had to find the supply closet.

* * *

The resident janitor of Joey Drew Studios, Wally Franks, whistled merrily as he strode down the hallway. A dark shape flickered in the corner of his eye, and Wally looked back again. Nothing was there but a Bendy cutout.

Weird, _that_ wasn't there before.

He just shrugged and turned back down the administration hallway with his mop and bucket in tow.

Behind the oblivious man, Bendy popped back into shape with a wide grin, twirling the set of keys he'd swiped. He tossed and caught them with a faint jingle, snickers silently rocking the toon.

Plan: Pranksalot was on.

* * *

Head bobbing and mop swabbing, Wally looked back up to admire the clean, shiny hallway he'd just finished. It was nice and sparkly, just like his mama taught him!

Say what you will about his wacky personality, Wally was at the very least serious about his cleaning.

He took the mop and plunged it back into that bubbly water, turned back to the hallway-

The mop hit the floor with a thud as the employee gaped, dumbfounded, at the ink splattered all over the once pristine tiles. Did a pipe burst again? He sent a brief glare up at the ceiling.

Wally steeled himself and scrubbed that tile floor for all it was worth once more, glancing upwards all the while for the leak that did the deed. Of course, there was nothing there.

He finally finished once again with a relieved sigh. "I swear, if these darn pipes spring anotha leak, I'm outta here!"

The janitor picked up his tools, turning back to admire the hall again. They clattered to the tile a second time as a high pitched shriek of anger escaped the man.

This time, the hall wasn't just decorated in ink stains and splatters. Now, whoever was messing with him decided to spice things up a bit and draw on the walls, too. Pictures of Bendy and other characters doing funny faces at each other decorated the wooden hall, ink still fresh and dripping. One Bendy even wore a fantastical handlebar mustache, handsomely standing in pride with a tophat and monocle.

Wally, his fury subsiding as he looked at the images, began snickering. Small snorts escaped him, then turned into full blown laughter.

"Good one, whoeva did this!" he chuckled wholeheartedly, wiping at his eyes. "I needed that. Can't be gettin' too serious, or I'd turn into Sammy!"

* * *

Speaking of the musician, Sammy was currently trying not to let his top blow sky high.

"No, no, NO!" He yelled in frustration. "Daniel, take this seriously and just toot your horn, stop laughing! Lenny, stop making those fart noises! And YOU!" Sammy pointed at one lone surprised man with a saxophone, quivering finger filled with so much restrained anger. "I don't even know your name, but FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE! Fix your instrument! How in the world is it even making that sound?!"

The one who was singled out groped around the inside of the sax bell, pulling out, of all things, a _rubber chicken_. It let out a shrill, dying squeak before being chucked at high velocity towards the other end of the band room. It bounced, squeaking as it tumbled.

A small snort broke the silence, only to be snuffed out by Sammy's acidic glare just as quickly.

"Okay, let's try that again. One and-a two and a one-two-three!"

The band broke into the swingy jazz that characterized the Bendy shorts, Norman flicked the recording switch and it was perfect. It was finally perfect, after hours and _hours_ slaving over the notes, Joey's OCD and this fidgety band. Sammy could feel tears burbling up in the corners of his eyes, and he finally let out a tired, but happy smile.

Of course, why would the universe let a moment like this last? He was Sammy Lawrence after all, and _something_ always had to go wrong.

That _heaven-forsaken_ rubber chicken erupted into a loud, ear-piercing squeal, interrupting and overpowering the swing music. It died a slow, painful death before the room was drowned in a tense quiet. All eyes went to the composer glowering in the direction of the distraction.

Another smile crossed his face. It was a cold grin, one that was currently baring its teeth with promise of eviscerating the perpetrator. All the band members shuddered with fear as if icy water had been dumped down their backs. Whoever did this wasn't going to get out of it in one piece.

As Sammy rose, he tensed, stepping in the direction of the interruption. As his foot touched the hardwood, another of those agonizing squeaks sounded. Then another as his other came down.

His face turned bright cherry red with fury, chicken squeals picking up in time with his frantically quickening pace. If he stopped, they cut off into dead silence. If he went real slow, they transformed into those hideous, drawn out death throes again. No matter the speed, they kept time with his feet in some horrible mockery of a melody. Then, Sammy reached the source.

It was coming from the vent.

"I'll give ya the kiss off ta heaven, ya no good-!" He snarled, prying at the rim.

Sammy wrenched the lid of the air duct off in a fit of surprise strength to both the band and his future victim. The piece of metal flew through the air, landing with a clatter and one final, mournful squawk.

There, crouching in the vent and holding another of those chickens, was Bendy the Dancing Demon. The devil looked slowly up at the stunned musician, giving a strained smile.

"Whatsamatter, fella? Got a bee in yer bonnet?" he quipped.

All thought left Sammy as pure, unadulterated rage made his world go red.

* * *

He'd gone a step too far this time, he knew it!

Well, it was kinda hard not to acknowledge your fault if you had an angry, frothing musician on your heels, like Bendy did.

Cue the good ol' door chase!

The toon led his pursuer to a long hallway lined with doors, quickly slamming open the nearest one. Sammy followed suit, dashing right in.

The two ran in and out of doors at random. Sammy chased Bendy, Bendy chased Sammy. Once Bendy lost track of Sammy, only to open a door and have the half-crazed musician jump out, instigating the hilarity once again. The devil was grinning with glee the whole time,

Then the chase was moved to the hallway that Wally had only just finished cleaning...again.

* * *

The janitor wiped the sweat from his brow, a happy sigh emanating from his mouth. Then, a distant thundering was heard, the floor began to shake, and his mop bucket spilled soapy water across the tiles, making him have to clean it. Again.

"Ah, fiddlesticks!" Wally moaned piteously.

The shaking grew worse, and finally a dark inky shape that could only somehow be _Bendy_ jumped over the puddle and hid behind the bewildered janitor. A screaming blur that became Sammy Lawrence flew straight into the bubbly mess, overshooting Wally completely and slipping. A cry of surprise escaped him as he crashed into the far wall, making the janitor wince in sympathy.

Sammy collapsed into a silent heap, apparently knocked into unconsciousness. A purple goose egg started swelling up like a tire on his forehead.

"Oooh, he's gonna feel that in the morning," he muttered.

"Why would he feel it in tha mornin'? Shouldn' 'e be right as rain?" an innocent voice sounded.

"Well, anybody'd be outta it for a while afta a hit like that to the noggin," the janitor answered absently. "For all we know he coulda gotten concussed!"

"Oh. Oh! Oh no! That's bad!" The small black demon Wally finally remembered was behind him went running to the unmoving form of Sammy.

That impossibly neckless head hovered over the musician, grey tears welling up in the corners of his notched eyes. A spaded tail lashed in anxiety while those gloved hands twitched, unsure of what to do. Bendy settled on bawling his eyes out, quivering like a leaf in a harsh autumn wind.

"N-nobody was s-sup-pposed ta get hurt!" he cried. "It was j-just a little fun...I didn' wanna…!" Tears finally fell as he broke down into pitiful sobs, clenching Sammy's faded grey shirt tightly.

 _Um. There's a cartoon in frontah me. A crying cartoon. Let's just… think about this latah, yeah?_

Wally nodded to himself. _Yup, just don't think about it and hug the cryin' cartoon like ya mama used to. Can't go wrong wit dat!_

He gently wrapped his arms around the tiny toon. Bendy froze, looking up with his sad, watery eyes, mouth trembling in a grimace. Wally made a small smile, giving him a slight squeeze. The toon was pretty light, but wasn't alarmingly so, more like a small child.

"It's okay buddy, these kinda things happen sometimes. Sammy has one a' those hard heads, can't knock any sense into him at all!"

That didn't seem to reassure Bendy at all. In fact, his lower lip began to quiver and more tears threatened to fall. "But-but I shoulda remembered you guys ain't like toons, and-and-!"

Okay, time to nip that in the bud. No self-hatin' on Wally's watch!

Wally forced the demon to look him in the eye. "Ya didn't do it on purpose, didja?"

Bendy gave a small, hesitant shake of the head.

"Then it wasn't your fault. It was one a dose accidents." The janitor chuckled lightly. "If anythin' it was my fault, forgettin' to keep my bucket upright, or Sammy's for not lookin' where he was goin'. I may not know whatcha did to have him on yer heels, but _this_ part was an accident. Capiche?"

The demon managed a tiny smile, rubbing at his eyes. "Capiche, Mr. Mopper.

Wally set him back down, then had a sudden epiphany. He squinted hard at the tiny demon with these hazel orbs of his, blowing a stray blonde hair away from his face.

"Say…" he muttered, "you wouldn't've painted my halls with ink at some point today, didja?"

That classic smile was back on Bendy's face, and he did a little twirl before giving a mischievous bow. "What can I say? I'm a demon, troublemakin's in in my blood!" He frowned abruptly. "Or is it ink now?"

"Anywho, I'd love to have a little freak out ovah dis whole thing, but work calls, and Sammy needs help!" Wally chimed brightly. "See ya round, ya little scamp!"

* * *

Not all reactions were quite as pleasant, however.

"WHADDAYA MEAN THE WHOLE _STUDIO'S_ SEEN HIM?!" Joey screamed into Tom's face.

Tom stood there passively, and took a deep, calming breath to contain his anger.

"THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT I MEAN, YOU HALF-WIT!" he yelled right back.

Welp, that didn't help one bit. Maybe one of Allison's other techniques would do the trick?

"We couldn't keep it a secret forever. Bendy was goin' cuckoo shut up in here, Drew. The guy was gonna end up blowin' his cover somehow," Tom growled.

"Are the other ones ready to begin creation?"

The sudden subject change threw him. "Well, yeah, but-"

"Then have Alice and Boris ready by tomorrow. We have a couple Wall Street tycoons to visit this weekend." The greedy glint in his eyes roared like a fire, hungry for more.

And _there_ was the crazy he'd been expecting. If Bendy and his sweet angel weren't here, he'd have resigned a while ago. Someone had to look out for the little guy and Tom's dame though, and he'd be darned if it wasn't him.


	4. Elsewhere: Sammy Lawrence

When Sammy Lawrence finally woke in the infirmary, his head ached, everything felt like it was through a layer of fluff, and his ears rang incessantly like the Liberty Bell.

All in all, he felt horrible.

Then he remembered the particular reason he was feeling like this.

"Oh gosh," Sammy muttered, eyes wide. "Did I just attack a cartoon character?"

How in the blazes did that even happen!?

Then he noticed Wally sitting by his bedside, whistling as he stirred a cup of joe. The musician yanked the janitor down by his shirt, eyes smoldering embers as they came face to face.

"Wally Franks," he growled lowly, " what in the WORLD is going on in this studio? What was that?!"

Wally caught his mug before it could fall, then took a long sip, gazing cooly down at the man who was quite literally at his throat. "That, mah good mistah Lawrence, was Bendy the Dancin' Demon, tha devil darlin' 'imself, tha spawn of tha undawold-"

He was cut off as Sammy tugged him closer until they were almost touching noses. "Was it that heaven-forsaken ink machine's fault?"

A smile crossed Wally's face. "Yup."

Sammy nearly threw the janitor as he exploded. "I'LL KILL YOU, JOEY DREW ! YOU'LL REGRET THE DAY YOU EVER EVEN THOUGHT OF THAT MACHINE!"

He got out of bed and proceeded to faceplant on the floor, unconcious once more. Until that concussion was gone, he'd have to settle for brainstorming all the creative ways one could kill, castrate or maim a man with his own machine. Sammy's resolve only grew stronger when another leak from the machine in question happened right over him in the infirmary.


	5. And That Makes a Trio

It was an awkward procedure using the ink machine, that's for sure. First, you had to monitor it and make sure all the ink was flowing properly, otherwise clogs would occur. Then you had to go through the dozens of reels of film to painstakingly search for all the right scenes. You had to get all the front and back and ups and downs of all the characters, otherwise something wonky might happen to the resulting toon.

Then you were forced to take all those reels, stacks so tall they could reach heaven, and shuffle them to the ink machine. The machine itself was a piece of work that required almost daily maintenance, to Thomas's chagrin, and was somewhat difficult to get to at that.

Bendy constantly berating him on where they were going wasn't helping in the least with his mood.

"Are we there yet?"

"For the last time, no!" He growled behind his tower of reels.

Bendy snickered before fumbling with his own stack, sending reels showering down to the floor. He let out a squeal and caught them with his foot, horns, and free hand just in time.

A smirk of twisted amusement crossed his lips. "See what happens when you get distracted?"

The demon gave a pout, securing the reels more tightly in his arms. "What're we even doin' down here? This seems kinda phooey to me."

"You'll see. It's a surprise."

The duo crawled through the basement of the studio, those ink pipes becoming more and more numerous the deeper they traveled. The hallways gradually widened into a large, cavernous room that housed the enormous ink machine itself. Tom only had a inkling of an idea of how it worked, but he didn't want to know. The whole thing was eerie and unnatural, a far cry from the art department that gave birth to the characters in the first place.

It towered above them, the ink pumping through like the beating of a giant heart and echoing in Tom's ears as they entered the machine itself. Those whirring gears hummed while they strode past the empty formation containers.

Bendy stopped to stare, a haunted look entering his notched eyes before turning away.

The center of the machine revealed itself as a chamber fitted with dozens of glowing projectors. The mechanic gave a great big sigh, proceeding to begin his tedious task with the oddly quiet demon trailing behind.

How could he have forgotten?

Those first few moments in this world filled with fear and confusion came flooding back. It was distant now, however. He had people he knew, people he pranked, people, or at least aperson who was his friend. It was okay .

A shuddering breath was taken, fingers jerking at his bowtie to disguise his unease. He was okay.

Tom was finishing up with the last of the projectors, flicking them on and wiping the sweat off his brow.. "Finally!" He muttered. "C'mere bud, just one more thing."

He went over to a pair of the containers, flicking two switches on either side of both. The ink in both began to flow, that gurgling thundering playing in the background. Bendy forced down his fears and slowly approached, putting his face to the glass.

The ink didn't just fill up the compartments; it seemed that they clumped together like a sort of clay, slowly building a shape. A figure taller than him began to form, over time filling out into a familiar shape of perky ears and a wriggling tail.

The one to the right shaped itself into the figure of a fallen angel, horns poking through and halo beginning to form.

Peeking back over to the taller one, Bendy saw the ink begin to glimmer and shake. With a bright flash, white was visible over the dark black and notched eyes opened. He gazed right back, happy tears threatening to fall. It was them. He wasn't alone anymore.

"Tom! You can turn it off now!" He yelled frantically over the roar of the machine.

The inkflow died and the doors opened with that familiar hiss. Boris tumbled out on shaky legs and Alice not-so-gracefully fell flat on her face with a girly shriek.

Everything was strange, black and white a swirl around her. Her head felt like it was splitting down the middle, pain throbbing through her skull. Her limbs were like noodles, splayed out over the ground carelessly.

A face blurred into view as she struggled to stand.

"Bendy?" Alice croaked through her throbbing migraine, eyes squinting. "Is that you?"

"Tha' one an only, angel face!" the devil in question replied with a wink. "Now jus' let the depth settle, it'll be better in a bit."

How- what? What was going on?

"Welcome to the real world, toots!" He said gleefully.

She realized Boris was slumped next to her, pulling down on his ears and whimpering pitifully. A five-fingered hand, oddly slender and shaded, petting the toon wolf down his back. It led up to more odd flesh and a face that was both unnerving and strangely calming, with his dark beard and tiny glinting eyes. Clearly not a toon.

Her eyes narrowed, going back to Bendy who had started sweating profusely. "Why do I have the distinct feeling this is all your fault, devil?"

"Why do ya always think it's my fault, angel face!" he shot, eyes narrowing right back. "Ya know, maybe I should just leave ya flailin' in the dark like a loon then! That'd teach ya to assume everything!"

"By heaven, I think I still have a cross around here somewhere-"

"Eeep!" Bendy flew behind the strange person for cover from the gleaming cross that emerged from Alice's back.

"Okay, that's enough you two," the person growled. "Stop bickering like kids and we can leave."

Boris didn't know what was going on, but he didn't care much. All that mattered were those heavenly scritches behind his ears. He gave a shudder of pleasure as those strange but wonderful fingers gave him another scratch.

"...so, yeah, that's about the whole story. You guys exist now, and if Drew's plan goes on...everythin', and I mean everythin's gonna change. For good or bad, I dunno. Just play along for now I guess."

Alice's halo had noticeably dimmed during the explanation. "...so we're really here for good then?"

"As far as I can tell. I'm...I'm sorry. I never even thought that you'd already come from someplace before the machine. Bendy never said anything, the little rascal!"

A grumble made its way out of the demon's throat, a pouty face forming.

She gave a faint laugh at that, then sobered. "I'd never thought Flatland was ever a place I'd miss. You get kicked out of heaven one day to the place, and all you do is try to get away from it."

The owner of those majestic fingers paused for a second in his scratches, much to Boris' dismay. "What was it like? Everything being, well, flat?"

Bendy broke into the conversation eagerly. "Well, it's like if ya were two-dee! No depth or nothin'!"

There was another pause. "...wow. That was so enlightening. On another note, is that why you were complaining about the headache your first day here?"

"You try gettin' depth perception for the first time eva! 's really dis-orientatin'!"

Boris let out a warning growl. The scritches would commence, or else-! They began getting that area right over his crown, and he gave a happy sigh. Did the extra finger maybe make even better at this? Ah, the meaningful questions in life.

"...he doesn't say much, does he?"

"Nope. This little wolfy is the silent type. I can't actually remember the last time he talked instead of growling."

The wolf gave a protesting whine, but that only served to make the group laugh.

Those shards of ice Drew had for eyes sharpened as the CEO inspected the three toons lined up before him. Boris was a mess, constantly fidgeting and avoiding that cold gaze. Alice's face was devoid of all emotion, but her flickering halo gave away her anxious state. Bendy, on the other hand, glared right back into those soulless eyes.

Was this really the person who'd created them? With his cheery facade peeled back, Drew was clinical, cold and impersonal, like they were a product to be perfected and sold.

Yeah, Bendy didn't buy that for even a second.

Thinking back to his life in Flatland, there were those moments he'd felt like someone was watching over him, inexplicable feelings of peace and warmth as he pranked and confused his enemies. It was the kind of warmth that filled up your whole being and you had this certainty that there was someone out there who loved you.

It was those feelings that got him through the heart-wrenching days in Hell and all the terrible things that resided there. Even now, Bendy couldn't look at a pitchfork without getting chills.

In any case, he knew his true Creator was someplace else, and they loved their toons with all their being.

Bendy was snapped out of his thoughts by a clap from Drew. "Well done, Mr. Connor! They seem perfect! Now, to unveil them to the investors…" he trailed off. A smirk covered his face as Drew turned around. "Amazing what can come of a pencil and a dream, no?"

And that was another problem. None of the toons wanted to be the living mascots for the despicable Drew's planned theme park. How could they get out from this business man's thumb? Maybe they could find their real Creator somehow and they could help?

Nghh! There's gotta be a solution to dis!

Not for the first time, Bendy silently fumed in frustration at their predicament as they were casually dismissed from the office.


End file.
